Buscar:woods black sweatshirt

Looking back more than four years later at Haram, it is easier to see the forest for the trees. At the time, much of the attention fell on how this outsider duo would fare under the bright lights- which was fair, Armand Hammer had never done a single producer record before- and here they were working with a living legend. Now, with a little distance, it’s easier to see how Alchemist stepped out of his comfort zone to meet them where they were, and how all three artists then absconded for parts unknown. The flashbulb energy of “Bring The Stars Out”, asymmetric drone of “Chicharrones”, fugue-bounce of “God’s Feet”, and good luck finding analogues for “Peppertree” or “Stonefruit”. Haram doesn’t sound like anything else in the ALC discography, nor in Armand Hammer’s, for that matter. Haram was a one-shot kill that somehow contained some of the most accessible work ELUCID and billy woods had ever done, as well as some of their most experimental, and it all sounded cohesive.
Needless to say, they didn’t do this alone; KAYANA’s golden voice upps the wattage on “Black Sunlight,” while Fielded’s sultry alto gets chopped and screwed on “Aubergine”. Earl Sweatshirt’s cameo on the sun-soaked “Falling Out the Sky” is already a classic. Curly Castro, Amani, and Quelle Chris all turn up the heat when called upon.
But since we are talking about retrospect here, the thing about Haram isn’t that it still sounds as good as it did when it came out. The amazing thing is that it actually sounds even better than it did then. You don’t have to take our word for it either, run it up one time, with the lights low and something on ice, see if it doesn’t take you somewhere new, again.

If now the time for voodoo amulets and protective talismans, sharpened swords and unbreakable shields, it’s also a moment for music to assume its highest form as a healing art, a source of benevolent spells, and a refuge from the chaos. After all, the best creators are always those that tap into the telluric current that exists below the surface. Those who delve into the collective unconscious so that timeliness is a happy accident; timelessness was always the intent. If Quelle Chris and Chris Keys’ Innocent Country 2 sounds like an antidote for a moment of surreal anxiety, the same could be said of it a decade from now. It’s an album best understand in a dialogue with the first volume of the series. Released in 2016, the initial Innocent Country focused on isolation, pessimism, and the notion of finding peace within pain. At a time when those feelings convey the mood of the moment, Quelle and Keys have responded with a soundtrack that offers soothing light in a bleak timeline. A hopeful record in a hopeless moment, precisely when it’s needed most.